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Chan’s butt is cold.
He tells as much to Changbin, another fifth year who’d snuck away from his own bleachers to keep his lonely friend company. The Hufflepuff cackles at him. Chan pouts, to no avail.
Shifting on the bleachers, Chan tries to remember why he’s even here; he doesn’t normally go to quidditch games. If he remembers correctly, Changbin’s crush’s friend has joined the Gryffindor team this year.
He still isn’t sure how that lead to him being here.
(Did he mention its cold?)
He blows into his hands, resigned to his fate, and turns his mind to wondering if he knows this new member of the team. Obviously, they must be in his house - probably a lower year, since everyone always seems to rush to tryouts as soon as they’re old enough.
In his peripheral vision, he sees players fly out onto the field. There’s enough ambient noise he hadn’t heard any announcements, and if he’s honest he’s quite content to miss the match.
Instead, he nudges Changbin. “So, who’s your boy again?” He doesn’t bother stifling the laugh that bubbles up in his throat at Changbin’s immediate blush. “You still haven’t told me his name, I can’t believe you. What happened to friendship?” He clutches onto his friend’s arm dramatically, then holds tighter when he feels the warmth the boy exudes.
Changbin splutters, but doesn’t try to deny anything. “Aish, you! Fine. His name is - you can’t tell anyone, yeah?” Chan rolls his eyes and nods. Changbin takes a deep breath in, then rushes out in a whisper, “his name is Han Jisung!”
Chan squints, trying to place the name in his mind. It’s ever-so-slightly familiar.
“Gryffindor, a year below us,” Changbin supplies, and Chan clicks his fingers.
“Aha! I think I tutored him a little in Transfiguration last year.” Changbin side-eyes him, and Chan giggles. “He seemed like a good kid. You have my blessing, Changbinnie.”
Changbin sighs in a greatly put-upon manner, but seems pleased. Chan wonders how this will go; he’s never known Changbin to like anyone, so he has no precedent to know how he’ll approach it, or how long it’ll last. He hopes his hopeless friend doesn’t end up taking years to approach the boy, but then inwardly rolls his eyes at the ridiculous thought.
“So Channie hyung,” Changbin starts. Chan can already tell from the tone of his voice that he’s not going to like what comes out of his mouth next. “You got your eye on anyone?”
Chan groans - he was right. He pushes off Changbin’s shoulder and turns to face his friend on the bench, ready to heavily refute the ridiculous claim (he hasn’t got time for that, he’s got an ambitious future ahead!), only to see his friend’s eyes go wide, and arms start lunging toward him.
He doesn’t have time to blink before he hears a whistling sound getting louder and louder, and suddenly there’s a large something in his peripheral. He flinches, realising that maybe there are benefits to paying attention to the game, but is surprised when no impact comes. Something whooshes past his face instead.
He slowly dares to look around, and sees a player making a sharp circle in the air nearby. They must have stopped whatever was about to hit him, and had to quickly pull up and away before they flew right into him instead. Pressing a hand to his racing heart, he prepares to call out a thank you , but they’re suddenly right in front of him.
Okay, Chan thinks, this is a lot to take in. Aside from his near-death experience, he now knows that the person who saved him is a boy, and the boy is a Slytherin, and the boy is very, very pretty. His beautiful eyes are wide as they flit over Chan’s body, and his gloved hand holding a bat appears both strong and elegant. His perfectly sculpted lips are moving, which —
Oh. Chan blinks rapidly and clears his throat. “Sorry, what was that?”
The beautiful boy hurriedly urges his broom slightly closer, seeming to think Chan just couldn’t hear him, and repeats, “are you okay?”
( Oh. )
Chan wants this boy to sing for the next song he writes. “I - yes, I’m okay, thank you. Thank you so much for stopping that bludger!” He hopes that was the right word to use - he knows that this boy must be a Beater, based on the intimidating bat he’s wielding, and he’s fairly sure Changbin’s used those words together before.
Somehow, the boy leans forward to rest his elbows on his broom, and his chin in his palms. His lips jut out into a pout as he says, “it was coming right for you!” He shakes his head disapprovingly and it takes Chan a moment to realise he’d automatically started shaking his own head, utterly hypnotised. The boy’s lips quirk up a little as he pushes himself upright, leaning on his hands now. “I’ll have to have a chat with whoever let that happen, hm?”
Chan’s sure his ears must be steaming at this point, but he shakes his head. “Oh, no, I’m sure it was an accident!”
The boy raises a perfect eyebrow at him, but thankfully for Chan’s sanity (or so he thinks), someone else comes barrelling over.
This one’s on the Gryffindor team, Chan quickly determines, and his sweetly freckled face has frantic written all over it. “I’m so so sorry!!” He bursts out, coming to a wobbly stop next to them. “Are you okay? That was so dumb of me, I dodged it without thinking, but then it went straight towards the stands and -“ he suddenly transitions from Korean into rambling English, and Chan is left startled by his Australian accent as the Slytherin Beater sighs and hushes the boy with a pat to his shoulder.
“It’s not your fault. A certain someone on my team, whom I will be having words with after the game, was meant to be covering that area of the field. That’s what Beaters are for.” The panicked Gryffindor settles significantly at these words, and Chan marvels at the way the Slytherin seems to be able to seamlessly switch between sensual and soft in seconds.
The freckled boy is still worrying his lip between his teeth, clearly still feeling guilty, so Chan pipes up. He feels the strange need to protect this boy, even if it’s from his own mind. “And I’m completely fine! No harm done whatsoever. I’m also pretty sure you’re supposed to dodge it,” he points out with a quiet laugh, and feels embarrassingly proud when both boys smile. “Honestly, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine for not watching the game.”
Chan suddenly realises he maybe shouldn’t have admitted that to two of the players, but before he has a chance to frantically backtrack, the Slytherin boy laughs aloud. “Somehow, I am entirely unsurprised,” he teases. “But next time you’ll be watching, right?” The intention-filled question is punctuated with a smooth wink.
Is the beautiful boy actually flirting with Chan right now? He’s trying to figure out how to reply without looking like an absolute fool, when the Gryffindor boy (who Chan is inconceivably beginning to associate with sunshine) makes a sort of eep sound, flushes intensely upon receiving both of their focus, and awkwardly throws his thumb over his shoulder before swiftly flying away. Chan can’t help but smile, already feeling incredibly fond of the younger Gryffindor. Something about his manner feels incredibly warm, even just from that short interaction.
The Slytherin turns back to Chan, having watched the other fly away too. There’s a lopsided little grin on his face, which Chan quickly determines he wants to see more often.
“Well,” the boy sighs dramatically, “having ensured your safety, I must return to the battlefield, before my captain forgets the legal consequences of friendly murder.”
Chan lets out a surprised laugh, watching the boy’s smile grow a little bigger. “Ah, yes. Of course. Well, uh, thank you again,” he says, a little sad that he might never get to speak to this stunning boy ever again.
“Oh, it was my pleasure, Channie,” the boy purrs, eyes twinkling. “My name’s Lee Minho. I’ll be seeing you around.” He gracefully flies off, waving his fingers over his shoulder without looking back.
Chan chokes on his saliva.
It’s only when his back is thumped painfully that he remember’s he’s not exactly alone. He braces himself as he shifts his eyes to glance at Changbin, wary of some very extreme teasing to follow.
He has enough brain function left to be impressed at Changbin’s facial expression - it’s scandalised, smug, and proud, all in one. Chan hides his face in his hands, cheeks burning with intensity as Changbin laughs, sounding like he can’t help it.
“I mean, that was one way to answer my question, alright. No need to be dramatic, I get it.”
Chan lets out strangled laughter at this. He doesn’t know how this Lee Minho knew his name, or why he seemed interested in him, or - he’s pretty confused in general at the moment, about everything, really. Maybe it’s the almost-head injury?
But he does know that his stomach flutters at the thought of seeing him again.
— — — —
Most people don’t expect Minho to be the settling down type. He’s been told he comes off as unapproachable, sometimes; the cold and handsome and admired-from-afar type.
Most people, Minho thinks with a smirk, are wrong. Well, of course, he hasn’t ever been this interested in anyone before. And, naturally, if the boys he has his eye on don’t like him that much, then they obviously won’t be settling down anytime soon.
Minho giggles quietly at the thought as he waits for Chan to look up from his breakfast. As if on cue, Chan glances in his direction, freezing as they make eye contact. Minho widens his smile and wiggles his fingers in the air at Chan. Chan appears to choke on his pumpkin juice (he does that about 75% of the times he catches Minho staring at him), much to the concern of the adoring faces around him. Minho sighs in contentment, finally picking up his own fork and reaching for his food.
“Ahem.”
Minho rolls his eyes, playfully glaring at the fourth year next to him. “What do you want, Hyunjin?”
The boy, a childhood family friend of Minho’s, is retying a ribbon in his hair as he watches with a disgusted expression. “Go and ask Snape to move you into Gryffindor, lover boy. It’ll save you the trouble of having to moon at him from over here, and you won’t be driving us all insane.”
Minho blinks slowly at Hyunjin, who flinches. He glances around the table top. “Does anyone have any tissues on them?”
He hides a grin at Hyunjin’s sudden flustering. “that - that will definitely not be necessary! Thank you!”
No one around them at them table reacts - they’re all used to the pair’s antics.
“So what were you saying before, again?” Minho teases, turning back to his food and finally taking a bite of his toast. It’s cold, but he doubts anyone will care too much if he casts a little wandless heating charm. After a glance to Hyunjin’s plate, he casts another - Hyunjin seems to have been too distracted to eat for the past few minutes. Minho smiles into his toast. How could that have happened?
Hyunjin sighs dramatically beside him, thankfully not noticing the warming charm. “Fine, you can stare at your boy all you want, I won’t complain,” he huffs, making Minho snort. Hyunjin complains about it at least twice a day. “But really, it is a little sad. You could actually talk to him instead?”
Minho rolls his eyes. “I do talk to him! It’s just cute to see him get so flustered.” He hums contentedly. “I talk to him after every quidditch game, as you well know, and I wait for him outside his classes sometimes!”
“Creep.”
“Yah!” Minho slaps Hyunjin’s shoulder, who gasps. “I’m attentive. And hello, who doesn’t want to be walked to their next class?” He huffs at his friend’s ridiculousness, deciding to talk to Chan sometime throughout the day just to prove his friend wrong. Maybe at lunch, or after dinner?
His eyes trail around the room as he thinks, eventually being drawn to a familiar laughing face. He grins, wondering if Felix has worked up the courage to talk to Chan yet. Minho takes pity on the younger Gryffindor and always seeks him out first, usually before games; it helps, of course, that Minho is always rather keen to talk to him too. He’d cornered the boy after that eventful game where the three of them first met, forcefully introducing himself and refuting Felix’s repeated apologies. He’d been rewarded when Felix finally relaxed enough to share his own name.
Minho pouts, reminding himself of his carefully thought out plan. He knows he likes both of the boys a lot; he also knows that Felix would never agree to date him as it stands, since he (and everyone) can see Chan’s infatuation. Minho is sure he can’t be the only one who can also see Chan’s fondness of Felix, but that’s a matter for another day.
His genius Plan(TM) is:
- Get with Chan.
- Help Chan through his Inevitable Polyamory-Related Crisis.
- Get with Chan and Felix.
He wriggles happily as he eats, staunchly ignoring the weird looks Hyunjin keeps shooting him. When he finishes his breakfast, he tugs on Hyunjin’s ponytail as a goodbye, and takes the long way around the Great Hall on his way out. Coincidentally, this route takes him right past the Gryffindor table.
He makes his way to Felix first, quickly taking in his rather empty plate of food. He frowns, but is careful to turn it into a smile as he approches.
“Morning, Lixie,” he says, putting his hands on Felix’s shoulders and pulling him back a little. Felix goes with the motion automatically, a blush visible on his pretty cheeks when he tilts his head up to reply.
“Hi, Minho hyung.” His voice is even lower in the mornings, Minho notes as he leans over Felix to reach for the nearest platter of food.
As he places a few of Felix’s favourites onto his plate, he chides his boy gently. “You’ve got to eat more, Yongbok-ah! You had practice yesterday.”
The use of his Korean name successfully distracts Felix from overly noticing the extra food. “Hyung,” he whines, “I told you my Korean name in utter confidence!” He pouts, head still tilted back to speak to Minho, and Minho might just die an early death.
He blinks a few times. “Sorry, Lixie,” he coos. “I like your Korean name. See you later!” He notices Felix covering his cheeks as he walks away, managing a quiet bye, hyung , and giggles into his palm. His eyes land on Chan now, who quickly looks down at his own plate.
Oh. Interesting.
“Hi Channie,” he drawls as he approaches the blushing boy. “Meet me after dinner today?” He decides on this time on the spot, figuring it’ll give them more time and privacy.
Chan, having turned around a little on the bench to face him, coughs, then nods. “Today? Yeah. Yeah, sounds good, Minho.”
Minho resists the urge to coo. Both of his boys are just too cute. “Okay. I’ll come get you, hm?” Chan nods again, grinning now, and Minho smiles back. He wonders whether to tease him about Felix, but decides against it for now. One step at a time. He steps forward a little into Chan’s space, ruffling his hair. Chan melts a little. “Did you do your Charms essay that we talked about?”
Chan blinks, then nods with a grimace. “Well, I tried? I definitely wrote… something. Would you mind checking over it for me?”
Chan’s puppy eyes are so unfair. “Of course,” Minho hums, releasing his hand from Chan’s hair (it’s very soft and curly, okay?). “Proud of you for doing it,” he says with wink to lighten the genuine sentiment as he walks off, not forgetting to waggle his fingers in a flirty wave. As Chan returns the wave, still grinning, Minho wonders absently if Chan really does struggle quite this much with Charms, or if he’s a little slyer than Minho’s been giving him credit for.
He finds he doesn’t care either way.
— — — —
Chan and Minho spend progressively more and more time together in the few weeks before Minho asks Chan out. They’re on the Astronomy Tower balcony, sitting against the wall huddled under a blanket because Chan’s a bit of a romantic like that.
He didn’t miss Minho’s blush when he’d covered them up with it, though.
They’ve been sitting in companionable silence for the past few minutes when Minho shrugs his shoulder, lightly jostling Chan’s head which is resting on it.
“Hm?” Chan feels half asleep, if he’s honest, but he wriggles his toes in an attempt to wake up.
“Channie,” Minho starts, voice low. “You know I like you.”
This wasn’t quite what Chan was expecting. He fights the urge to hide his warm face in Minho’s neck, instead turning it upwards to try and see Minho’s face. It’s not the easiest angle, but they make it work. Minho’s smile is soft.
Chan doesn’t know what to say, but Minho’s right, really - he’s made it fairly obvious, for which Chan will be ever grateful. He nods.
“And I know you like me.” It’s a statement, but his voice has lost some of it’s usual assuredness. That won’t do.
Chan finds Minho’s hand under the blanket, squeezing it in his own. “I’d be a little shocked if you didn’t, Min,” he chuckles. “I’m not the most subtle.”
Minho huffs in amusement, and Chan feels some of the tension leave his shoulders. “I don’t think either of us are.” He pauses, and Chan waits for him to collect his thoughts. “…Channie.”
Chan doesn’t think he’s ever seen Minho like this - lost for words, almost nervous. He looks back up at the stars. “Yes, Minho?”
“Can I take you on a date?”
Chan’s stomach twists pleasantly and he feels like dancing. When he speaks, his voice is infused with laughter, unable to contain his joy. “Of course! As if I’d ever say no to you, Min,” he teases. “This is basically a date anyway, really.”
Minho releases his hand just to wrap his arms around Chan’s shoulders, clutching him tight with relief and seeming to sink into him. His voice is muffled into Chan’s head when he says, “that was scary.”
Chan thinks he loves Minho, but it might be a bit too soon for that. So instead he turns his head up and whispers a thank you into the pink skin of Minho’s cheek.
— — — —
It’s the start of their seventh year when Minho realises that his Plan(TM) may be flawed. He and Chan have been dating for more than a year now, and there has been no sign of Chan’s Inevitable Polyamory-Related Crisis. He doesn’t seem to even slightly know that it’s an option. And Felix, although he still seems to have a massive crush on both of them, hasn’t made a single move - he, too, doesn’t seem to know about poly relationships, at least not in relation to himself.
Minho feels a little bad for them. They’re both muggle born, Minho ponders, so maybe polyamory isn’t a thing in the muggle world? How strange.
But there’s hope for them yet. He thinks.
Someone squishes in next to him at the table, not being subtle in their shoving him closer to Chan on his other side. Of course, Minho doesn’t mind this one bit, but he does have a reputation to uphold, so he glares at Hyunjin as he sits down. Hyunjin catches his gaze and just makes a face - he knows him too well, damn it.
He turns to his boyfriend instead, catching him in the act of refilling his glass. Chan looks unwittingly guilty, and Minho laughs kindly at him.
“Thanks, love,” he says automatically, then blinks. They haven’t actually said that yet. He eyes Chan for a reaction, but his sweet, sweet boyfriend seems not to have noticed either.
But he probably can say it now, can’t he? He’s been telling himself firmly from the very start that it’s too early for that, but it’s not early anymore! He hums happily as he picks up his juice, trying to decide on when would be best to spring the confession on his easily-flustered boyfriend.
The boyfriend in question is currently watching Minho with a grin. “What’re you thinking about?” He prompts, making Minho smile.
“You,” he replies honestly, then faux-gags at his own cheesiness. What has happened to him?
(Hyunjin genuinely gags on his other side).
But it’s not all bad, because Chan sounds beautiful when he laughs.
Minho turns back to his food, partly to hide his fond smile and party to refocus on the issue at hand - how can he get his Plan(TM) back on track?
— — — —
Chan isn’t all that worried when Minho sits him down for a chat. In the privacy of the Room of Requirement. After curfew.
He’s not, really, because he loves Minho and he knows that Minho loves him too (!); he trusts his boyfriend and their admirable level of healthy communication.
He relaxes completely, though, when Minho starts off by saying, “so you remember when I told you I was poly?” It’s not the ‘I don’t love you anymore’ that Chan was so un-worried about. Chan does remember, so he nods, sure that his curiosity is showing in his eyes. He shuffles down further into the heavenly sofa the Room had conjured up for them, coincidentally leaning closer to Minho in the process.
Minho grins - maybe he’s not too subtle, but who can blame him? Then he puts an arm around Chan’s shoulders to reach his chin; not stopping Chan from breaking eye contact, but encouraging it.
“I think you are too.”
Chan blinks, processing. He can’t help but giggle as he leans in to press a kiss to Minho’s lips. “I - why? I only like you, Min, you know that.”
Minho smiles fondly. “I do know you love me. But I also see things that you might not realise you’re doing.”
Confused, Chan tilts his head.
One perfect eyebrow raised, Minho says one word. “Felix.”
After a few moments of feeling completely lost, Chan speaks hesitantly. “Felix? I don’t know what you mean, Min. I - I mean, I guess I love him like a friend, but we’re not even that close.”
The longer he talks, the less sure he is.
Minho shifts to wrap him in a hug, which Chan leans into. “It’s okay, Channie. Sorry for springing this on you.” He pauses, rubbing Chan’s back thoughtfully. “Well, I guess however you might feel about him, I should tell you either way that I… I like Felix.”
Chan’s first instinct is to feel horrified, before reminding himself that he doesn’t need to compete with Felix - he knows very well that Minho loves him. He finds one of Minho’s hands and squeezes it anyway, just for the familiarity. When he’s gathered himself, he says, “okay.”
Minho laces their fingers and kisses Chan’s head. “Okay?” He checks, still sounding unsure.
Chan lifts his head to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “Okay,” he repeats firmly and rests their foreheads together. Their closeness means he feels Minho’s subtle sigh of relief on his lips.
“Thank you,” he says, and Chan senses that this is one of the times when he shouldn’t remind Minho that he doesn’t need to thank him for basic decency. He offers a quiet smile instead.
They sit in silence, wrapped in one another, for a few minutes longer until Minho speaks again. He speaks low, just over the crackle of the fire in front of them. “If you want to stop talking about this any time, we can stop, yeah?” When Chan nods, he continues. “Can you - I want you to try and imagine how you would feel if Felix was to start dating both of us.”
Chan blinks. “Uh, sure.” He’s not sure why his boyfriend is so set on convincing him that he likes another boy, but he’ll humour him. He gazes into the flickering fire, finding it easier than he expected to bring Felix’s face to the front of his mind. It’s similarly easy, picturing Felix sitting beside the two of them on the sofa they’re on right now. Between them, even. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything; Chan already knew that he’s fond of Felix, so of course it feels natural to imagine having him around.
After all, it’s not nearly that easy to picture the three of them kissing, or anything like that —
Chan almost gasps aloud as his mind is flooded with images, as he realises that it is that easy.
(Felix is a little smaller, would fit so nicely between them.)
(Minho would love kissing Felix’s freckles, he knows. So would he.)
(He was never just fond, was he?)
“I think I may have been right,” comes a sly voice from next to him.
Chan makes a strangled sound and hopes that the glow of the fire somewhat hides his raging blush.
Minho seems to be making an admirable effort not to laugh at Chan as he speaks again. “You doing okay, Channie? I know it can be hard.”
Still bewildered with his recent realisation, Chan turns to Minho. He needs to make sure: “you’re - you’re okay with it?”
Minho lets himself giggle now. “I’d be a bit of a hypocrite, wouldn’t I, if I wasn’t?” He pulls Chan closer in his happiness with the outcome of the conversation, grinning in satisfaction. “Of course I am, you silly boy. I’m very okay with it.”
Chan nods, relieved despite practically being sure of the answer. Thoughts of Felix are still running through his mind, somewhat unfamiliar but not unwanted. He thinks he could get used to it.
Huh. “So - what happens next, normally?”
Minho snickers. “You say that as if I’m some experienced Casanova. You do remember that you’re the first person I’ve ever dated, right?”
Despite (or perhaps because of) the teasing, Chan’s cheeks redden at the reminder. “Well, you clearly know more about this whole - thing than I do, in any case.”
Minho hums. “What happens next? Well, we have a few options, but I think I know which one might appeal to us both the most.” He has a devilish twinkle in his eyes, and Chan almost regrets asking.
(But he could never regret any of this, when it comes down to it.)
— — — —
“And what’s that?” Chan retorts.
“Felix, of course.”